Clearing Out
by louella
Summary: Makepeace needs to clear a few things out. But is Dempsey just clearing out?
1. Chapter 1

Makepeace pulled up on the drive outside Dempsey's place. They didn't often come to his – hers was nearer the station – but they'd been out to a nick on the other side of town and were passing his flat on the way home, so he'd asked if she wanted to stop by for a takeaway and a beer. Of course she'd said yes.

Dempsey was out of the car and unlocking the front door before Harry had got her seatbelt off. Rolling her eyes at his back, she let herself out and locked the car, following him into the shared hallway of the converted house. He picked up his post before letting them into his flat.

Harry hadn't been to Dempsey's since Simone had been over, and those visits hadn't exactly been comfortable. She'd enjoyed meeting Simone and finding out more about Dempsey's life in the States, but had shied away from some of the more challenging thoughts that Simone's visit had raised. Blinking, Harry realised Dempsey was talking to her. "Sorry, what?"

"You want pizza? Chinese?"

"Pizza's fine." Dempsey had gone into the kitchen in search of a bottle of something. Harry wandered into the living room.

She flicked on a couple of lights and looked around the room. She liked this flat much more than places he'd lived in when he first came to London. This flat felt warmer, more lived-in. She liked the art on the walls and the signs of Dempsey's life outside work, the books on the shelves and the clothes left on the sofa. She walked over the mantlepiece and examined the handful of photos standing there.

"They're new," Dempsey said as he joined her in the living room. "Simone bought them with her when she came."

Harry pointed at a picture of a smiling older woman with tall hair and cat's eye glasses. "Your mother?"

"Yeah, that's her." Dempsey smiled down at the photo and trailed a finger along the edge of the frame. "Simone took it before she left for England, thought I'd like an up-to-date one."

Harry picked up a photo showing five young people standing in a row, grinning, their arms flung around one other's shoulders. Their clothes showed that the picture must have been at least a decade old.

"Who are these?"

Dempsey tried to snatch the frame out of Harry's hands. "Hey! Gimme that!"

Harry laughed and held tight to the frame. She peered at the photo. "Is that you in the middle?"

"Yeah, that's me and the kids. Two little brothers, two little sisters. Thought we ruled the world."

Harry said, "You look happy."

"We were." He took the photo from her and brushed a little dust from the frame, then settled it back carefully on the mantelpiece.

He said, "I got you that pizza with the spinach and the egg that you like, you know, the weird one."

"And I assume you went for pepperoni with extra chilli and cheese?"

"Bang on. Should be here in twenty." He took a seat on the sofa and she followed, relaxing easily into an armchair next to him. He handed her a bottle of beer and clinked it against his own. "Cheers."

She smiled at him and raised the bottle to her lips. He watched her mouth for a moment then said, "You want a glass for that?"

Harry swallowed and shook her head, smiling. "Your place, your rules."

Dempsey picked up an envelope that had been sitting on the table. He said, "You mind if I…?" Harry shrugged and Dempsey ripped the envelope open. A broad grin split his face.

"Good news?" said Harry.

Dempsey tapped the letter with his fingers. He said, "This tells me that I now completely own my apartment. Mortgage all paid off at last." He smiled across at her.

Harry blinked. "You own an apartment?"

"Sure I do. Back in New York. It's not much, couple of rooms, tiny kitchen, but it's got a great view of the city and now it's all mine." He was beaming.

"Congratulations," said Harry automatically. Her mind was reeling but she wasn't sure why. "How long have you had it?"

Dempsey thought for a moment. "Bout fifteen years, I guess. Got it not longer after I joined the force, when I came out of the army. My folks had always rented, always worried that the landlord would move them on. Soon as I got a regular wage I bought somewhere, so I could have a place I could call my own."

This didn't seem to fit with her image of him at all. She said, "Who lives in it? At the moment?"

"My cousin Al and fiancée. It's tight squeeze but I don't charge them much rent, just enough to cover the mortgage, so they're saving up for something bigger."

"Right." Harry was trying to picture this flat of Dempsey's, located in a neighbourhood she'd never visited, in which a young couple had now made their home. Dempsey was still smiling, re-reading his letter, and Harry found herself wrong-footed by the image of this home on the other side of the Atlantic.

Harry had often been frustrated by how little she knew of Dempsey's life before he moved to London. Simone had given her a window but there were still huge gaps. It wasn't that she wasn't interested – that wasn't it at all – but whenever she'd tried to prise some details out of him he'd clammed up and changed the subject, so she'd eventually given up asking. Perhaps now was a good time to try again. She said, "Do you miss it? New York?"

Dempsey caught her eye and held it for a moment. One of those melting gazes that sparked warmth all through her. She looked away.

Dempsey shrugged. He said, "It's not my home now. I got a life over here."

"But your family…" Harry trailed off.

"I got a big family, they hardly notice I'm not there." Dempsey sent her a wry smile.

"I doubt that."

"Do you?"

There it was again, that look. Like she was the only thing he could see. She swallowed, and said, "Well, of course. I mean, I would miss you. If you left."

Now his gaze was molten. She could almost feel where his eyes were trailing across her face, over her lips. "You would miss me?"

Harry opened her mouth and closed it again. What could she say? She shook her head and smiled. "I'm surprised you would care."

"Don't be surprised, Princess." Dempsey's voice was low and he was leaning towards her. Her heartbeat was racing. "It would matter to me if you missed me."

"I, er –" Harry paused as the doorbell rang. The pizza. "I'll get that," she said, and jumped up from the chair. As she went to the front door she saw Dempsey's shoulders drop a little, his thumb pulling at the corner of his mouth.

oOo

Harry got home about ten that evening. After the pizza had arrived she'd made a conscious effort to change the atmosphere, positioning herself a little further away, keeping the conversation flowing by talking about their work and their colleagues. If he was disappointed he didn't show it. It was only as she was leaving, as he was helping her into her jacket, when he'd said her name, that she'd wondered. But she'd just smiled and told him she'd see him tomorrow and escaped through the front door.

She was pulling her robe over her pyjamas when her eyes were drawn to her chest of drawers. She took a moment, then walked across and pulled open the bottom drawer. Underneath a pile of old clothes, the ones she kept for decorating and gardening, there was a flattish cardboard box with a lid. She pulled it from the drawer and took it over to the bed.

Sitting down next to the box, she closed her eyes and lifted the lid. When she opened them she looked at the contents of the box and sighed. Got to start somewhere. She took out a large, fat envelope and lifted the flap. Inside was a thick pile of papers, all relating to a house she used to live in near Kennington. Some old bills, some mortgage statements, and the deed of transfer from when she's sold her interest in the house to her husband after she'd moved out. She shook her head, couldn't really understand why she still had most of the it. She put the deed of transfer to one side, to send to her solicitor to keep with her other financial paperwork, and the rest she put in a pile to go into the bin.

Next she took out a small box, with the name of an expensive jeweller embossed on the top. She opened the box and stared at the two rings nestled within, one bearing a ruby flanked by diamonds, the other a simple gold band. She slipped them onto the third finger of her left hand and looked at them for a moment, angling her hand to and fro, the jewels shining in the lamplight. She hadn't worn the rings since she'd moved out of the old house, didn't intend to wear them again. She put them to the side, would take them to the bank to store in the safety deposit box with her other valuables.

There was also a photo in the box, in an elegant silver frame. She and Giles on their wedding day. She was gazing up at him, radiating happiness and optimism, and he was looking straight into the camera lens, a thin smile on his face.

She slipped the photo out of the frame and put it with bills to go in the bin. There was a photo of her mother in an album downstairs that would look lovely in the frame.

There was one final item in the box. It was a black silk nightdress, trimmed with lace and cut with a high slit at each hip. She'd bought it for her honeymoon but worn it only once as Giles had frowned and made some comment about her dressing like a call girl. She debated for a moment about sending it to the charity shop, then decided no. She shrugged out of her robe and pyjamas and slipped the nightdress over her head. The fabric felt silky and smooth against her skin, sliding over her body as she moved. It felt as though she was being caressed and she found herself picturing a pair of strong hands smoothing across her skin. She blushed as she admitted who the hands in her imagination belonged to; it wasn't an image she found easy to deal with. Putting the empty box back in the drawer she slid into bed, the silk nightdress wrapping around her as she slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry passed the weekend in a blur of friends, cocktails and canapes. She managed to fit in a trip to the bank to leave the rings in the safety deposit box and also sent the papers about the house sale to her solicitor. The photo of her mother looked beautiful in its new frame and was sitting proudly on a mantlepiece in the lounge.

Monday started busily too, as she and Dempsey picked up a new counterfeiting case and spent the morning apart, chasing down their contacts in the field. By one o'clock she was tired and hungry and headed back to the station. She smiled as she saw Dempsey at his desk. "Yo, Princess," he called, picking up a brown paper bag and holding it out to her. "Tuna salad on brown."

She took the bag and murmured her thanks. The sandwich was just what she needed and she ate it gratefully, watching her colleagues as they milled around the squad room. Dempsey's desk was a sort of natural focal point, with him at the centre of most of the jokes and the stories. His legs were stretched out in front of him and he was leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, and she couldn't stop her eyes from travelling the length of him. She looked away before he noticed.

Watson wandered over and pulled up a chair next to Dempsey's desk. "Get up to anything interesting this weekend?" he asked.

Dempsey smiled and lifted a foot onto his knee. "Quiet one," he said. "Went with a couple of the guys in C Division to the dog track. Had a couple of beers and bet on a few races. Was kinda fun."

Harry listened to the exchange. She liked hearing about Dempsey's life outside the office. Not so much when it involved parties and girls and bourbon, although there hadn't been so many of those lately, but this sort of thing – Dempsey hanging out with friends, doing ordinary things – she liked to hear about that. It made him seem more settled here.

Watson said, "Did you turn a profit?"

Dempsey used his tongue to shift the toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. "You know," he said, "not quite." He leaned forward a little, catching Harry's eye, and she smiled back. "I was ahead by about twenty quid but I blew it all on the last race. Bet on this beautiful little greyhound, light blonde fur, hoity looking face. Went by the name of Princess. Thought she'd be a sure thing but she let me down. Limped home in sixth."

Watson laughed and Dempsey grinned at Harry. She did her best to look offended but she knew he'd catch the smile in her eyes. She shook her head and picked up a file, doing her best to supress the warmth spreading through her tummy.

After she finished her lunch, Harry told Dempsey that she needed to visit a contact in the banking industry to follow up a lead on the counterfeit case. Dempsey said, "If you give me ten minutes, I can clear my desk and join you."

Harry thought for a moment then shook her head. "My contact is pretty gun-shy. If I turn up with you in tow I don't think I'll get much out of him. Best if I go alone."

Dempsey shrugged. "OK, I got plenty to be getting on with here."

She slung her bag over her shoulder and said, "My contact's based out of town. I doubt I'll be back in time to come in, so I'll see you tomorrow."

Dempsey looked at her, a soft warmth in his eyes. He seemed to be considering something, said, "Harry…" She raised her eyebrows but he just shook his head and said, "Have a good night."

oOo

Harry managed to get some useful details from her contact but it was after seven by the time she got back home. She was tired from the travelling but restless, too. There wasn't much in the fridge but she didn't want to go back out. She picked up a few takeaway menus but nothing was appealing. Her stomach growled and she gave herself a mental kick. Just order a pizza and get on with it.

Waiting for the pizza to arrive, she prowled around her house, picking things up and putting them down again, straightening things that were already tidy, trying hard not to allow her thoughts to wander. The doorbell came as something of a relief.

She finished the pizza quickly, sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine. At least her full stomach meant that one of her needs had been met. But now she wasn't hungry it was harder to avoid thinking about a pair of hazel eyes and the person they belonged to.

That had been happening a lot lately. He seemed to have changed towards her, no longer quite so abrasive, and she'd responded in kind, her come-backs a bit less pointed, her criticisms tinged with affection.

There was a sense of the ground shifting between them. There'd always been something there, something slippery and sometimes unsettling, but lately it had firmed up into something more tangible, so that she felt she could almost grasp hold of it. The problem was that the thought of grasping it left her feeling vulnerable and unprepared.

She'd dated other men since the collapse of her marriage but no one had seriously threatened her heart. Her work kept her busy and she had plenty of friends and activities to fill her leisure time. She could satisfy her own physical desires – better, in fact, than her husband had been able to do – so she'd been able to convince herself that, really, she did not need a man.

Until that infuriating Yank had come along and upset her carefully balanced equilibrium. Without her noticing he'd woven himself into the threads of her life. He'd made friends with her friends, made himself at home in her home. He didn't know it, but he'd begun to feature frequently in her fantasies; on one recent occasion, her imagination had been so explicit she'd hardly been able to look him in the eye when she'd seen him at work the next morning.

It still seemed incredible to her that she could see herself with him. But the vision was gradually coming into focus and she found, to her amazement, that she liked how it looked. Given enough time, she could perhaps work up the courage to take the next steps. The problem was that she no longer thought she would have enough time.

The flat in New York was on her mind, again. Really, why would he stay here when he could be back among his family and friends, in a place where he'd made his home. What could she offer to keep him here?

She gave herself a mental shake. There was one more thing she needed to do before she could move forward. Looking back, she honestly didn't know why it had taken her so long. She pulled out her stationery set and began writing a letter to her solicitor. Once it was done, she sealed it in an envelope and left it near the front door to post in the morning. As she headed back up the stairs she finally felt calmness descend. That night she slept better than she'd done in weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

The counterfeiting case kept them occupied over the next couple of days. Harry's banking contact had proved very useful, his information giving them a vital lead, and by Friday afternoon they'd made an arrest and were in the process of tying up the loose ends.

Dempsey was scowling at a pile of paperwork on his desk and Harry took pity. She knew it was the least favourite part of his job. Leaning close to him, she whispered, "Do you want me to give it to Fry?"

Dempsey looked up, seeming a little surprised by her nearness. "Do you think he'll do it?"

"If I ask him nicely. He'd probably do it better than you, too."

"That is true."

Dempsey watched as Harry picked up the files and wandered across to Fry, sliding the files onto his desk and whispering her request for the favour into Fry's ear. Harry smiled as Fry stammered a yes, his ears turning a deep shade of pink. She thanked him and went back across to Dempsey. "Shall we get out of here?" she said.

He drove them to hers. As she let them in, the front door pushed against a fat envelope that was sitting on her doormat. She picked it up as she passed, putting it on the side in the kitchen while Dempsey opened a bottle of wine.

They sat on stools at her kitchen counter, eating olives and drinking wine, when he nodded towards the envelope. "You gonna open that?"

There was a pause. "Later, maybe."

Dempsey looked at her. She could feel his curiosity. "You know what it is?"

"I think so. It's from my solicitor."

"Is it private?"

Harry sighed. "Is anything private from you?" He grinned but she could tell he was still waiting for an answer. She reached for the envelope and sliced it open, pulling out the covering letter and scanning the contents. She put the letter back inside with the rest of the paperwork and pushed the envelope away. She took a breath and looked down at her bowl. "It's my divorce proceedings," she said. "I'm getting divorced." She lifted her wineglass to her lips and felt rather than saw Dempsey angling his body towards to her, his eyebrows up somewhere near his hairline.

"You're still married?"

"I know." She gave a dry little chuckle. "Silly, isn't it? Should have been shot of him years ago. Still, not much longer now, I hope." She stared at the counter. He was still staring at her.

"You're still married?"

"Yes, Dempsey, I'm still married. But assuming Giles doesn't cause any trouble, my solicitor thinks I won't be very soon."

"And will he – Giles? – will he cause trouble?"

"Shouldn't think so. He'll probably welcome the chance to make it legal with Ginny. Assuming they're still together, of course. I wonder if they are."

"You don't know?"

Harry risked a glance at her partner. He was staring at her like she was a particularly challenging piece in a modern art gallery. "Why would I know? No longer any of my concern. We sorted out the finances when we separated, no children, and I don't want or need any ongoing maintenance so it should all be very straightforward." She took a gulp of wine.

Harry felt his hand rest on her arm, a warm, reassuring weight. He said, "Harry," and she had no choice but to look at him. His eyes were heavy, gazing intently at her. "You OK?"

Harry forced a puzzled expression onto her face. "Of course," she said, drawing on all her aristocratic reserves. "Giles and I were over years ago. This is just a formality." That at least was true.

Dempsey was fiddling absently with the cuff of her jumper, his fingers sometimes catching the skin at her wrist and it was too distracting so she eased her hand away. He frowned, and said, "So why now, Harry?"

"Oh, I don't know," she lied. "Felt like the right time?"

There was a pause. "That really it?"

She shrugged. "Why else?"

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes burning at her, and she had the disturbing impression that he was seeing straight through her. "Wandered if maybe you'd met someone else."

Her heart skidded to a halt. She laughed, unconvincingly. "When would I have time to meet someone else?" she said. "The only single man I spend any time with is you, and…" She trailed off. She'd already said more than she should.

"And?" Dempsey stared at her.

"And obviously nothing's going on between us," she said, injecting some irritation into her voice.

"Obviously."

"So there is no one else, I'm just getting round to doing something I should have done ages ago. Having a bit of a clear out. That's all."

"Hey, sure," he said, raising his palms at her. "A clear out. Good idea. You're better off without the loser anyways."

Harry sent him a small smile. "You never met him. How do you know he's a loser?"

He smiled back, one of his slow, lazy smiles that she liked far too much. "Well," he said. "He let you go. Clearly a loser."

"Careful, Dempsey," Harry said, jumping off the stool and going to fill up the kettle. "Carry on like that and I'll think you complimented me." She had her back to him as she stood at the sink so he couldn't see how affected she was by his words. It meant she didn't see the wry smile that worked across his face at hers.

Harry made two mugs of tea and carried them through to the sitting room. He cleared away the wine glasses and followed her through, taking a seat next to her on the sofa. She glanced at him as she took a sip of her tea, worried that the atmosphere between them was still somehow off.

Dempsey put his mug on the table and stretched himself out, his feet up on the stool and his arm along the back of the sofa. His hand was at her nape. His eyes were on her face. He said, "A clear out. Maybe I should do that too."

Harry looked at him sceptically. "Not sure a charity shop would welcome your cast-offs."

He grinned. "Wasn't thinking about my clothes. More about… other stuff."

"What 'stuff'?" Harry looked at him. "Have you been hoarding knick-knacks? Storing up old copies of the Racing Post?"

He stared at her thoughtfully. "No, nothing like that." He took a sip of tea and wiped a thumb across his mouth. "Need to do something about my apartment."

Harry froze. "What sort of something?" Did he want to go back? She suddenly understood how much she did not want him to go back.

"Gonna sell it."

He was looking at her closely, watching for her reaction. She, of course, worked hard to conceal it, although she couldn't stop the way her pulse had begun to trip uncomfortably through her body. "Why would you want to do that?" she said.

His mouth tugged downwards in one corner. "Aint that the million dollar question."

"I'm afraid I can't quite stretch to a million dollars, Dempsey. Will you tell me for free?"

Dempsey stretched his arm and caught his hand around the back of her neck. He mumbled, "C'mere," and pulled her gently towards him, and she couldn't resist, finding herself close alongside him, her head resting against his shoulder. She could smell his scent, a blend of soap and cigars and something just him. His body was solid against hers, his arm warm around her shoulders, and she caught her breath. He said softly, "I'll tell you anything you want, Harry. No charge."

It felt to Harry that Dempsey wasn't talking about his flat any more, but the flat was safer territory than any of the other questions that were flying through her mind. She said, "If you sell your flat, it'll be harder for you to go back."

Dempsey smiled. "That aint a question."

"OK. Why don't you want to keep your home in New York?"

"You trying to get rid of me?"

"No!" It escaped her lips before she could stop it. His eyebrows raised in her direction. Trying to backpedal, she said, "You're a very valuable member of the team."

"Oh, Harry," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I don't think that's it at all. And I told you before why I want to stay. You just didn't seem to believe me. My home's here now." His voice was low and she could feel the rumble as she pressed against his side.

"But what will you do if you sell your flat?"

"Buy one here." He said it as if it were obvious. "Any more questions?"

Hundreds, thought Harry, but she shook her head.

"OK," he said. "Here's one for you. You're gonna get your divorce. I'm gonna buy a place in London. What do those two things have in common?" He reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb across her palm, his lips against her hair.

She struggled to keep her thoughts together. This was something she wanted but she was terrified too, worried that she might be falling over the precipice alone. She said, "Not for the first time, Dempsey, I'm afraid I don't understand you."

He was still smiling. He said, "Sure you do. You're a detective, you can put clues together. You know what it means when two people clear the decks like that. You just don't want to say it out loud." He pulled away a little so that he was able to turn to face her. Their knees were touching and he took both her hands in his. "It's crazy, isn't it?" he said softly. "You and me. Would never work." He paused for a moment, then said, "Could be fun trying, though."

Harry saw that the smile on his face was a little tentative, nervous even. He lifted a hand to her face and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then trailed the back of his finger down her cheek. Her throat had tightened; she wasn't sure she could speak. Swallowing hard, she managed, "But what if…"

Dempsey's voice was filled with patience and warmth, not at all what Harry was expecting. He said, "What if what, Harry? What if it all goes wrong?" She gave a tight nod and he sighed, squeezing her hands with his. He said, "It might, I guess, but I don't know, I don't think it will. Either way, what's worse? We try and it all goes wrong, or we don't try and die not knowing?"

Harry could feel her heartbeat pounding, hear it drumming in her ears. She had to look away, his burning gaze too intense to meet. In a small voice, she said, "Work, though."

Dempsey laughed. He said, "Do you know how long it's been since I dated another woman?" Without giving her chance to respond, he said, "Valentines. I took a woman out for Valentines and now it's November. My mom keeps asking me to go visit and I keep saying no, that I'm too busy here. My cousin Al wants to know when I'm gonna reclaim the apartment and I keep extending his lease, a month or two at a time. I should be going for a promotion but I can't get one while I'm still officially on a transfer from the NYPD. I'm living my life in limbo, Harry, waiting for something that might never happen, and I've had enough. I want to try. And if the worst thing that happens at the end of it is that I need to find another job, I can live with that."

She looked at him. "You make it seem so easy."

"It is easy, Princess. You just got to do it." He leaned towards her, his fingertips slowly tracing patterns on the back of her hands, smiling softly. "I want to take you out, Lady Harriet. I want to buy you flowers and take you to dinner and spend an evening with you not talking about work. So what do you say, huh? You and me? Dinner?"

The feel of his fingers on her skin was wrecking her resistance. "Dinner," she said, a little weakly. "OK, we can do dinner. When?"

Dempsey's grin was wide. "Still early," he said. "I'll go home and shower, pick you up in an hour."

"Tonight?" She still wasn't ready, was she? There was a panicky flutter in her belly.

"No time like the present." He stood, looping his jacket over a finger and slinging it over his shoulder. "Back in an hour," he said. "Be ready." He leant down and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek, then let himself out.

She put her fingers to her face, where his lips had been. A slow smile curled across her mouth. Maybe she was ready. One way to find out. She glanced at her watch – fifty-nine minutes! – and ran up to her bedroom. Standing in the middle of the room, she looked around in a daze. What on earth was she going to wear? She should call Angela, she'd be able to help. And maybe she could fit in a face mask and -

Stop. Breathe. This was dinner with Dempsey. He knew exactly what he was getting, had seen her in everything from her most expensive evening gown to her tramp outfit and many unusual ensembles in between. She would take a quick shower, fix her hair, put on some clean clothes and a spritz of perfume and that would be fine.

Exactly an hour later, she heard the ring of her bell and took a deep breath. She straightened her shoulders and opened the door. "Dempsey," she said, smiling. "Shall we?"

He took her arm and led her to the car. She was surprised by how calm she was, how natural it felt to be heading out for dinner with this man. She slid into the passenger seat then watched as he walked around the car to join her. He put the key in the ignition and she leaned over, planting a quick kiss on his lips, her smile making her eyes sparkle. He smiled back and said, "OK, let's go."

~ THE END ~


	4. Chapter 4

**[AN: I was chided for not finding a starring role for the nightdress that appeared in Chapter 1, so this is to resolve that oversight. Hope you like it.]**

They lay together on her bed, a sheen of sweat drying on their bodies, their breath coming in gasps. Dempsey's arms were around her, holding her close, and he was pressing little kisses onto the top of her head and her shoulder. Harry tried to gather herself back together. It'd never been like that for her before, she'd never felt such abandon, such wanton pleasure, and for a moment she worried that perhaps it hadn't been the same for Dempsey. She risked a glance at him and saw he was staring across at her, eyes like warm honey, a grin splitting his face in half, and she smiled back, reassured.

She snuggled down into him and he somehow managed to manoeuvre a blanket over them without letting her go. Her head was on his chest, her arms and legs draped around him, and she smiled as she realised how well they fit together. No limbs awkwardly jutting into tender places, no clumsy shuffling to find a comfortable position. Her body felt perfect, as if this was what it had been made for, and she allowed herself the pleasure of simply lying against him, the sound of his heart beating in her ear.

It was funny, she thought. She'd sometimes allowed herself to imagine being in this position with him, lying together in the aftermath of their first time, and she'd always assumed she'd be nervous, unsure of what would happen next. The prospect of it had almost been enough to prevent them ever getting this far. But now the time was here and in fact she felt at ease, comfortable in his arms, confident that whatever she was feeling, he felt the same.

"Hey," he said, as he finally got his breathing under control. "Jeez. That was amazing. You are amazing." He tilted her chin up and kissed her lips, her nose, her forehead.

She smiled as she rested her head back on his chest. She said in her best haughty voice, "I'm just glad I met your expectations."

He chuckled. "How'd you know I had any expectations?"

She slapped him gently on the arm. "Dempsey."

"OK, OK. I might have imagined this once or twice before." She felt his fingers twirling around strands of her hair. "And you will be pleased to know, Sergeant, that you not only met my expectations, you actually exceeded them."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

She'd been joking, but she felt him tense as he lifted his head to look at her. "Don't say that," he said quietly. "You must know this is different."

"Well it's certainly not something I've done before." Her voice was teasing but he frowned.

"I'm serious, Harry. I aint ever done this before either." She lifted a sceptical eyebrow. He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, I – I've never… never had a first time with someone I already care about before." He stared at her and a wave of warmth flowed through her body. She smiled down at him, her head propped on her elbow. She couldn't resist – his lips were right there – and she dropped a kiss on them, lingering a moment as she enjoyed the taste.

"So we're doing this, yes?" she said, and watched him nod.

"Yes please."

She took a deep breath. "Won't be easy."

He turned his face and planted a row of soft kisses along her neck. "Princess, we'll be fine. Although it won't hurt to practice."

She was drawn in by his confidence, and by the fact that she too wanted this to work. "OK," she said, and stifled a yawn. Dempsey eased out from beneath her, drawing the curtains and switching off the lamp. He helped her pull the covers out from under her body and slid underneath them with her, turning her onto her side so he could spoon against her back, his arm across her waist and his face in her hair, as they fell into sleep.

A few hours later she awoke to the feel of his hands on her body and his lips on her skin. "Harry," he growled, pulling her close, and she twisted in his arms so she could return his kisses. They made love slowly, under cover of darkness, each pulling the other towards the finish, sounds of desire escaping them as they peaked together. She fell asleep with her head on his chest and his arm a solid weight across her hip.

Her alarm clock woke them later, an unwelcome ringing through her bedroom as watery autumnal sunlight filtered through the curtains. She groaned and reached blindly for the clock, hitting it clumsily a few times until she managed to silence it. She rolled over and looked straight into a pair of sleepy hazel eyes.

"Morning partner," he said, smiling lazily. He reached for her and she sank into his embrace, but when his lips caught hers she pulled away.

"Dempsey, we have to go to work."

"C'mon, Princess," he mumbled, his teeth lightly grazing the lobe of her ear. "Let's be late."

She laughed but pushed at his chest. "We can't. I'm getting up."

"Course you are," he said ruefully. "You've already got me up."

She looked down and raised an eyebrow – it was indeed an impressive sight – but she bit her lip and clung to her resolve. She managed to ease herself out of his embrace and swung her legs to the floor, sitting herself on the side of the bed. As she moved, she nudged against her pillows and a corner of black silk was dislodged from beneath.

"What's this?" said Dempsey as he pulled it out. She snatched it from him, balling it up in her fist.

"Nothing." She could feel the blush across her whole body, which was ridiculous considering what had happened the night before.

She could sense him looking at her. "I don't think it's nothing, Sergeant," he said, moving closer to her and running a finger along her spine. "Lemme see."

She thought about arguing but knew she'd lose. "Fine," she sighed and handed it to him. He flicked it out to reveal the nightdress that Giles had disliked so much.

Dempsey whistled. "Makepeace, you're not telling me you wear this."

Oh god. Was he going to be as difficult as Giles? She took it back from him and shrugged, trying to hide her mortification. Dempsey moved nearer, wrapped an arm around her waist and dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

"You gotta put it on for me, Princess," he mumbled against her skin.

"What?"

"Please, babe. I can't go to work picturing you in that. I gotta see it for real." She looked at him, felt the heat coming from him and the need in his eyes. "Please," he said again, and she gave in, pulling the nightdress over her head.

Dempsey watched her every movement. "Stand up," he said, his voice a low rumble, and as she did the silk fell to her thighs, tumbling over her body like a waterfall. He let out a sound between a growl and a groan. "Walk over there."

She felt a little unsteady on her feet, unused to being the centre of someone's erotic attention, but undeniably turned on by the thought of obeying his commands. She took a few steps and stopped, still facing away from him. She swallowed. "Now what?" she said.

"Turn around."

She turned slowly, one hand on a jutting hip and a challenging look in her eyes. The black lace highlighted the luminous paleness of her skin, the silk clinging to the peaks of her nipples and drawing his gaze to the shadow between her legs. His eyes travelled the full length of her, along her slender thighs, revealed by the slits in the silk, and across the valley of her cleavage. "Harry," he said, his voice hoarse with need. "Come here."

She walked towards him and he took hold of her hips, pulling her close to him, pressing kisses to her body through the silk. "God, Harry, want you so much," he muttered, pulling her back down to the bed, and she was helpless to resist, her senses demanding the satisfaction that only he could give. She went to pull off the nightdress but he caught hold of her wrists. "Leave it," he said. "Want you to wear it for me."

By the end, Harry was left in no doubt about his views on the nightdress. They would be late into the office but she didn't remotely care.

oOo

They took two cars to work, although neither could really explain why, given that they'd frequently arrived together before and never aroused suspicion. Harry was first through the door, wincing as she heard Spikings' voice. "This is not a bloody holiday camp, Sergeant Makepeace, attendance is not voluntary, so when you and your Yankee sidekick can spare me a moment, I'd like to brief you on a new case."

"Yes sir," said Harry. "I'm sure he'll be along any moment." She looked down at her desk, feeling her cheeks colour, and sat down quickly. It took her a moment to find her notebook and pen under the clutter on her desk and she got up to fetch herself a coffee. She was standing by the machine when she sensed his arrival.

"Morning Princess," he called over to her. "Fetch one for me, will you?"

Harry's heart began racing. She could hear Dempsey dumping his stuff on his desk and wandering towards her. As he reached her she split the coffee she was pouring and swore, putting the mug on a desk and dabbing ineffectually at her cuff with a tissue. Dempsey leaned in and said quietly, "Relax, babe. It's only me."

She took a deep breath and looked at him through narrowed eyes. Ensuring her voice was loud enough for the others to hear, she said, "You're late. You can get your own." She picked up her mug and walked towards Spikings' office. "Oh, the Guv wants to see us. Now." Chas sent her a sympathetic glance as she pushed open Spikings' door and she was reassured that he at least thought the situation was normal.

Dempsey followed her into the office, leaning on the wall alongside her. She could smell his aftershave; he must have freshened up quickly at home before coming in. She wanted to lean her body into his. Suddenly she realised Spikings was talking to her, saying, "So what do you think, Sergeant? Yes or no?"

Harry blinked. She had hardly heard a word. "I, er, I'm sure I would be happy to follow your recommendation, sir," she ventured. Dempsey looked at her, exasperated.

"What my partner here is trying to say, Chief, is that your contact is probably right and we should take a better look at it." He pushed himself off the wall and took the slim manila folder from Spikings' hand. "Give us a minute to go through it and we'll get back to you."

Spikings looked at them suspiciously. "Right," he said. "And be discreet about it, if you can manage that."

Dempsey looked at Spikings and grinned. "Oh I'm great at keeping secrets," he said, as he ushered Harry through the door in front of him.

Harry's elbow glowed where he held her as he guided her back to her seat. This was ridiculous; she had to get a grip. She played undercover all the time. She just needed to treat this as another undercover job, playing a role where she wasn't sleeping with her partner. She could feel his breath on her neck as he leaned over her to reach for a pen. This would be harder than it looked.

Dempsey dropped the folder on her desk and said he was going out to speak to someone in payroll about his expenses. She watched as he left, slightly cross that he'd left her to read Spikings' file, when she remembered that Dempsey never claimed expenses, he always sweet-talked Agnes in Accounts to get petty cash. She stuffed Spikings' folder into her bag and muttered something about going to the canteen to read in peace, then followed Dempsey through the door.

As she walked along the corridor, wondering where Dempsey might have gone, she felt a hand on her arm and was dragged into a cupboard containing cleaning supplies and a mop. She turned around as he closed the door behind her. "Dempsey, what – " She couldn't finish her question as his lips were on hers, his arms around her body, and she responded immediately, lighting up like a firework.

They pulled apart, panting a little, grinning at each other. "Dempsey, this is crazy," she said, her eyes sparkling at him.

"Yeah but there's good crazy and bad crazy, and this is definitely good crazy." He dropped his mouth to her shoulder, seeking out the skin at the base of her throat, making her gasp.

"Dempsey, we're at work," she laughed, pushing at him gently.

"I know, I know, but I can't help it." He swirled his tongue around her earlobe. "You smell so good."

"Mmm," she sighed, leaning into him, but then she heard the booming tones of Spikings as he walked along the corridor with Chas. "Come on, we can't stay in here all morning."

"You sure?" The look he gave her was pure puppy dog and she bit her lip to stop herself laughing. "OK, I guess you're right."

She put her hand on the door handle but he covered it with his. "Harry, I know we agreed we can't let anyone know about this," he said. "So you gotta relax a little. Try to remember how much I irritate you."

"Shouldn't be too tricky."

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "You would think."

Standing on tiptoe, she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. "I'll do my best," she said.

**[AN: I've got another couple of scenes in mind for this, then we'll see what happens. Hope you enjoyed it, please let me know.]**


	5. Chapter 5

They made it out of the cleaning cupboard and back to the squad room without being rumbled by any of their colleagues. Harry was sure the change in their relationship must be obvious to anyone who was looking, given the sparks that were flying with every glance, but Dempsey just shrugged. "They wouldn't notice if Spikings ditched his missus and shacked up with Chas," he said.

Harry thought for a moment. "Makes you wonder about their career choice."

"You said it." He looked at his watch; ten past four. "You wanna make a run for it? It is a Saturday."

She looked at him regretfully. "I'm sorry, Dempsey. Already got plans."

Dempsey's body stiffened. He looked across at her with dark eyes. "If it's a date you need to cancel."

She knew it shouldn't, but Dempsey's possessive glare sent a thrill through her. She said, "If it were a date I would cancel, but it isn't." She saw him relax a little, and smiled. "Dinner with Angela. Probably be a late one, you know what she's like."

"I do indeed, can I come too?"

"Absolutely not." She threw her files into a drawer and picked up her handbag. She felt a moment of uncertainty. "So I'll see you… Monday?"

"Monday," said Dempsey. His eyes trailed over her as she stood and he linked his hands behind his head. "Or before. I'll call you."

Her face broke into a grin which she tried, unsuccessfully, to hide. "Do that," she said, and swung out of the door, conscious of his eyes following her as she left.

oOo

At six-thirty, Harry opened the door to a smiling Angela, who was waving a bottle of wine in her direction. Harry took the wine and kissed her friend on both cheeks, then ushered her through to the kitchen. Angela took a seat on one of the kitchen stools and watched as Harry bustled around, opening the wine, pouring two large glasses and emptying crisps into a bowl.

"Help yourself," said Harry, taking a good sip of the rose. "Mm, lovely. Anyway, how are you?" She hopped onto the stool alongside Angela. "Been to any good parties lately? Got any interesting gossip?" Harry picked up a crisp and bit it in half, grinning at Angela.

Angela looked at her for a moment, eyebrows raised and a smile on her lips. "No, my life is an endless desert of lunch with the ladies and tea with the aunts. Terribly dull."

Harry laughed and nudged Angela with her elbow. "Oh I don't believe that! You missed out cocktails with the gentlemen. Or at least one gentleman, yes?" Harry's eyes were crinkled in the corners as she looked meaningfully at her friend. "How is Rupert anyway?"

"Well," said Angela breezily. "He was fine last time I saw him."

"Oh, like that is it?" Harry sent Angela a sympathetic glance, but then broke into a smile again. "Never mind, you know what they say. Plenty of fish and all that." She giggled as she took another slug of her wine.

Angela narrowed her eyes at Harry, then turned a little on her stool so she was facing towards her. She propped her chin on her hand. "OK," she said. "Spill."

Harry's eyes opened wide. "What on earth do you mean?"

"You've been bouncing around like a puppy since I got here. You haven't been able to keep that grin off your face. And," she peered closer at her friend, "you've got a sort of glow."

Harry's hand went to her mouth. She wasn't sure she was quite ready to talk about Dempsey, not even with her closest friend. Making a determined effort to dial it down, she checked her watch and said, "Look, the cab's booked for about ten minutes, I just need to freshen up a little before we go. Have another glass while you're waiting."

She slid off the stool and was on her way through the hall when the phone rang. She picked it up with a 'hello'. On hearing Dempsey's reply, she looked over her shoulder and saw Angela eyeing her with interest. She turned away and said quietly, "What can I do for you?"

"Well, that's a very good question," Dempsey drawled. "Got any ideas?"

Harry could feel the blush creeping up her neck. "Dempsey!" she scolded. "Angela's here, I'm on my way out."

"Yeah, wasn't sure I'd catch you," he said. "But I wanted to hear your voice again this evening."

Harry smiled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. She'd forgotten about Angela looking on.

"Well now you've heard it," she said, a note of laughter in her voice. "Anything in particular you'd like me to say?"

Dempsey's laugh was low and languid. "I'll save that for when you're actually in the same room."

Harry smiled. "Look, I really do have to go. Do you have any plans for the evening?"

"Just me, a film on TV and a bottle of beer."

"Well, it sounds delightful. Don't have too much fun."

"I'll try not to," he said wryly. "And don't forget me while you're out with Angela."

"I'll try not to." There was a pause, then she said softly, "Good night, Lieutenant."

"Good night, Sergeant." She could feel his voice caressing her through the line and closed her eyes for a moment, picturing him at the other end of the phone. She was bought back with a jolt as she heard Angela call her name and she dropped the phone back on the hook, dashing up the stairs as she called to Angela that she'd be right back.

oOo

The dinner was lovely, Angela on great form and the food and wine excellent. "Coffee?" asked Angela, as the waiter cleared their plates away.

"Yes, why not," Harry agreed, and placed their order. She was surprised when after a moment the waiter appeared with a pair of champagne flutes on a tray. "We asked for coffee," she said.

The waiter leaned down and murmured, "Compliments of the gentlemen over there, Madam," nodding in the direction of two thirty-something men in suits who were raising their glasses in their direction.

"Well, hello," said Angela with interest. "They scrub up well. Shall we invite them over?"

"No!" said Harry. "I mean, it's getting late…"

"It's five past ten," said Angela drily. "But fine, we'll leave those gorgeous young men to the tender mercies of some other pair of single women."

Harry winced inside, then said brightly, "Look, here's the coffee. Shall we get the bill?"

"Not so fast, Officer. I've been patient with you but I'm not waiting any more. What is going on?" Angela leaned closer, a determined look on her face. "I can only think of one reason why you'd turn down those perfectly suitable gentlemen over there, and that's because there's someone else who's put that shine in your eyes and that rose in your cheeks. Who is it?"

Harry looked down at the table, her fingers toying with the teaspoon in the saucer. She gave a small shrug and Angela suddenly leaned in closer.

"No," she breathed. "You're not saying…"

Harry raised her eyes helplessly. "What am I not saying?"

"Not – the American?" Harry's eyes must have given the game away because Angela shrieked, "Finally, at last, hallelujah and praise the Lord!"

Harry squirmed in her seat, but she couldn't hold back the smile that was spilling across her face. "What do you mean, at last?"

"Come on, Harry. He's hotter than Arizona. We've never understood how you've kept your hands off him for so long."

"We?"

"Oh, you know. Tilly, Milly, Bella, Abigail. Me."

"Bella's married," said Harry, a small dart of panic flashing across her eyes.

"Well that just goes to show…" Angela took pity. "Don't worry Lady H. He flirts madly with all of us but we all know we could never compete with you. He's different with you."

Harry couldn't resist. "What sort of different?"

"Sort of… more intense. More protective. Like there was a shield around the two of you and no one else could come in. And you could feel the electricity crackle from about a million paces. Which reminds me." Angela leaned in confidentially. "Was he good?"

"What?" spluttered Harry into her coffee cup. A blush rose quickly up her cheeks.

"Of course he was good. Never really in doubt." A wistful look crept over Angela's face but she gave herself a shake and focused again on her friend. "So what finally persuaded you to take the plunge? Did he get you drunk and lower your defences?"

Harry smiled. "Funnily enough, I don't think that's his style."

"Well what then?" Angela tapped the side of her cup impatiently and Harry laughed, her mind playing back to the previous evening.

"We went out for dinner. He drove me home. He came in for a coffee and one thing led to another and…" She shrugged, smiling. "Here we are."

"Not good enough, Harry darling. I need details. This is as close as I will ever come to having my own hunk of sexy American Alpha male and I'm going to make the most of it."

Harry could see when she was beaten. "OK, OK," she laughed. In truth it was practically all she'd been able to think about anyway. "I went to the kitchen to make the coffee. He came up behind me and put his hands on my waist and his chin on my shoulder. He said, 'I don't really want any coffee.' I turned around to look at him and said, 'Well, what do you want?'" Harry stared down into her coffee cup and smiled. She continued softly, "He said he wanted me. That he'd always wanted me, and that he couldn't carry on without knowing if I felt the same."

Angela gazed at her friend in wonder. "That's amazing," she breathed. "What did you say?"

The blush on Harry's cheeks intensified as she toyed with the cup. Eventually she said, "I didn't really say anything. Not in words."

Angela tossed back her head and laughed. "That's my girl," she said, grinning. "I guess you got the message through somehow though?"

Nodding, Harry said, "I believe so,"

Angela looked at Harry's face, at her happy but distracted expression, and put her hand on the bill. "I'll get this," she said. "There's a taxi rank right outside. You should go."

Harry grinned and picked up her bag and coat. She leaned down to press a quick kiss on Angela's cheek before dashing out of the restaurant in search of a taxi. It was only fifteen minutes before she was pulling up outside Dempsey's place.

She paid the driver and walked to his front door. Dempsey's upstairs neighbour was leaving just as she arrived and held the door open for Harry. She walked along the short corridor to Dempsey's door and rang the bell.

As she waited for an answer, she was struck by an unexpected wave of nervousness. What if he didn't welcome her arrival? What if he'd decided to ask a few of the guys around, what if he wasn't even home? She was relieved when he opened the door, and the happiness that lit up his face when he saw her was all the reassurance she needed. "Hey, Harry," he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her softly. "Everything all right with Angela?"

He pushed the door closed behind her and led her through. She said, "Yes, everything's fine. I just… well, I wanted to see you."

"Well there's a co-incidence. See I've been thinking of you all evening, and now here you are, like an actual dream come true." He sat on the sofa then pulled her down next to him, his arm slung around her shoulders and a grin crinkling his eyes. He said, "Can I get you a drink or something?"

Harry looked at him, his warm, soft eyes, his hands that could work such magic on her, his strong body pressed alongside hers. She said, "I'd like something, please," and leaned in to take his lips in a kiss.

Some time later, Harry lay in Dempsey's bed, in his arms, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. She felt complete. Dempsey's arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight. He said, "We waited so long to get here." She smiled into his chest. "Why'd we waste so much time, Princess?"

She looked up at him and said, "Not all of it was wasted."

He pulled her closer into him, nestling her head under his chin. "Aw, Harry. Think of how many nights we weren't doing this."

"Mm." Her fingers were tracing idle patterns on his chest and he caught her hand, putting her fingers to his lips. "But Dempsey, what would have happened if we'd started this when you first arrived? Honestly?"

Dempsey thought for a moment, his fingers drumming against her shoulder. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I guess…"

Harry smiled. She said, "You guess we would have had a passionate but brief fling then found it impossible to work together? You guess you'd have asked for a new partner, Spikings would've given you Fry, you'd have gone back to New York in despair and then got taken out by Coltrane? Is that what you guess?"

Dempsey chuckled. "It might not have been brief."

Harry pressed a kiss against his chest, smiling. "I guess…"

"I think I know what you mean, though, Princess. Took me a little while to recognise your special talents in the field." Pulling her a little closer, he ran his hands along her body, down her back. He said, "You know, it was mainly because I couldn't believe someone so insanely beautiful could also be a good cop. I'd never met a cop I wanted to sleep with before. It was… confusing."

"Well I'm glad you were confused because I was completely spinning." She wriggled into him and said, "You know, in the years we've worked together I've seen you work your magic on every female who's crossed your path, from school girls to grandmas to working girls to ex-public school girls and any number of women in between. You're relentless, but it doesn't mean anything to you. You can see how I wouldn't know whether you really wanted me."

Dempsey's eyes widened as he let out a surprised laugh. "Makepeace, you have driven me up the wall and down the other side. But I have always, always wanted you." He lifted his head and pulled her up to meet his lips, his arms tight around her back. Pulling away a little, he smiled at her and drew his finger down the side of her face. "And then I started to like you. That was when I knew I was really in trouble."

Harry grinned. She said, "I was worried about dropping in on you this evening. Thought I might have been interrupting something."

He replied, "Baby, everything else is the interruption," and caught her lips in a slow, tender kiss.

**[AN: I think I'm going to leave this one here. I'm glad this Harry and Dempsey have got their happy ending, hope you enjoyed it too, and thanks for reading.]**


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